Cosmic consciousness
Can be costly, while the truth
Is like nature--free.

Watching the ball game,
They can't see the bright colors
Of the autumn leaves.

"What's the score?" he asks,
As he downs another beer--
Would he like this poem?

I walk, wondering
Why this town seems so dead,
As the cars speed by.

Who do I miss more?
Is it you or the woman
That I imagine?

                        October 17, 1999
                      --Alexander Shaumyan